


Facsimile

by fourfreedoms



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The job requires Eames as a girl. Arthur's pretty sure the job does not require Arthur to fuck him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facsimile

The mark, an anemic young man called Mattie Osbert, was a geeky programmer sitting on top of a stolen idea that could make millions. He’d looked so fucking easy to read on paper. So easy to plan for.

“Wee little nerds always want the same thing,” Eames had said during run through, wearing the face of a hipster girl with a razored bob, legs that went on forever below slashed denim shorts. His fingers had been studded with heavy garish rings. Arthur had found himself staring at those delicate hands, propped so saucily on slim almost boyish hips. Eames whipped out a tube of lip gloss and smeared it liberally over his already shining mouth. Ariadne had pursed her lips and Eames caught it. He smirked and flicked back into a man. “Is there a wee little nerd you have your eye on, my love?”

She’d blushed and turned away.

But they’d been wrong. Oh so wrong.

Ariadne set the scene beautifully—a rooftop party in summer with the perfect view of the skyline. There were thunderstorms over the water. Arthur watched Mattie stand off to the side, huge headphones around his neck, dirty chucks written all over. He was here only in the capacity to keep an eye on things. Just another part of the scenery, like Ariadne and Cobb, who were half-heartedly drinking cans of Schaefer that Mattie’s subconscious had provided.

Eames was poised in his hipster disguise, filtered cigarette between his long fingers. He wondered if this was a girl Eames knew out in the wide world. If _she_ knew that Eames wore her cat-eyed and haughty face around to seduce men out of their secrets.

He sighed. Now it was just wait. Wait for Mattie to find Eames, take ‘her’ back to his room, get him all flustered and distracted, and then have Cobb burst in as an angry boyfriend, allowing Eames to pop open the strongbox he had in his bedroom right next to a million filled-up hard drives. There’d been nothing but birth certificates and diplomas in the actual strong box. Arthur had checked. For a man who had been fiddling about in corporate espionage, Mattie’d been surprisingly lax about security. But the subconscious did so like to fill its secret spaces.

Cobb had wanted Arthur to play the angry boyfriend at first, but Eames had quirked a disdainful look at Arthur in his girl form and said, “Arthur’s blood has all been sucked out of him, not sure he’d care if his lady love cuckolded him but good.”

When Arthur didn’t rise to the bate, Eames had laughed like it proved his point.

Eames made his move. He sidled over to Mattie, taking on a tipsy drunk gait in heeled velvet booties that showed the miles of tan skin off to advantage and a brilliant smile that melted all the hauteur out of a visage that was made for looking down at people. Was that what Mattie wanted? An unattainable girl to love him, to be made weak before him? Arthur couldn’t understand the appeal.

After ten minutes, Mattie looked just as withdrawn and subdued as he had at the beginning of the party. Arthur checked his watch. There was not enough time for this. Eames detached himself from Mattie with a flounce that looked nothing like he was about to get taken back to Mattie’s dorky action-figure strewn apartment. Arthur shook his head. He was already looking to Cobb to figure out how they could jump out of this one and still land on their feet.

Eames appeared at his side, tapping one foot. “We fucked up.”

“I know that,” Arthur said, trying to make eye contact with Cobb.

“He’s not gay, I’d change into a playgirl model if I thought it’d catch his fancy, but that bloke is all about the birds, I can smell it on him. Arthur are you listening?” Eames said, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder to get his attention. “I don’t know what it is…”

“Maybe it’s you,” Arthur replied, reaching up to remove Eames’ hand. Cobb was finally turning away from Ariadne to check on them.

Eames didn’t let go, so Arthur was left stupidly gripping Eames’ delicate hand to his shoulder. “Wait a minute…” Eames said, voice soft.

“What?” he replied sharply.

“He’s staring at us,” Eames answered.

Arthur snorted, looking at Mattie on the other side of the roof. He was staring intently. “Now he’s jealous?”

“No, no, I don’t think so…” Eames said, watching Mattie out of the corner of his eye. “Kiss me.”

Arthur didn’t immediately comply so Eames leaned into him, his hipster girl was taller than Arthur in her heels, and pressed candy-glossed lips to his. Arthur inhaled in surprise and Eames pressed herself against him, sucking at his lower lip and knotting her fingers in his button-down. Her mouth popped off of his almost as quickly as it had come and she looked over her shoulder back at Mattie.

“Now that is interesting,” she said, still clutching at his shirt.

Arthur took in Mattie’s slightly glazed look, his clenched fists. “Eames, what the hell are you playing at?”

“He’s a voyeur, my pet,” she said, sounding so crisp and British even with rhotic rs and unclipped vowels peppering her language. Arthur blinked down at her as she tapped her mouth with one finger. “I have an idea.”

She grabbed Arthur’s arm, tugging him across the roof, past Cobb and Ariadne who were trying to talk to projections, but failing at hiding their flabbergasted expressions. The projections followed their mystified gazes. Arthur blushed under the force of the attention.

“You wouldn’t let me get this out earlier,” Eames said to Mattie, tugging on Arthur’s arm with a hard jerk. “My boyfriend and I would really like someone to watch.” Arthur looked down at her in askance and she dug her nails into his arm hard enough he had to fight a wince.

“What makes you think I’m into that,” Mattie replied, fidgeting on his feet.

Eames smiled and swept a hand down Arthur’s front, leaning in to nibble at his ear lobe. Mattie breathed out audibly, hands going white knuckled with tension. Arthur swallowed. Eames giggled and nuzzled his neck. “I thought so,” she said, eyes on Mattie. “You could have this, you know, you’d be doing us a favor.”

“I’m not so su—”

Eames gave him another dizzying kiss, tongue flickering in and out of his mouth, while Arthur stood mostly rigid. He broke the kiss first, tearing himself away, trying not to linger on her obscenely wet mouth. Mattie’s breath was coming out in gasps through his nose. Eames rested her head on Arthur’s shoulder and he tried not to look stiff, but he was sure he’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. “Take us back to your place,” Eames told Mattie. Arthur looked back over his shoulder at Cobb and Ariadne. Ariadne covered a smile at his beseeching expression.

They followed Mattie off the roof and down the stairs. Eames turned to him on the stairwell, fingers tight around his wrist, and hissed, “You’ve got to sell this, Arthur, don’t cock it up by acting like a dead fish.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Arthur hissed back, imagining how it was going to be in Mattie’s little boy apartment, pretending Eames was his kinky girlfriend while they waited for Cobb to burst in on them. It was laughable.

“That old adage, ‘lie back and think of England,’ you know it?” Eames asked darkly. Mattie looked back at them, eyes questioning, and Eames smiled down at him, sliding so smoothly out of disdain. She pinched Arthur’s bottom and then skipped gaily down the stairs after Mattie.

Mattie fiddled with the keys trying to get the door open and Eames gave him a significant look so Arthur kissed her as best he could. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her bodily against him. She moaned convincingly and hooked a thigh over his hip, grinding her pelvis against his. He heard Mattie’s punctuated gasps of breaths. It was like cold water on already guttering flames, but he held her tighter, tongue diving in and out of her mouth in a way he hoped didn’t look like he was totally aware of Mattie’s mouth-breathing right next to them.

Mattie stuttered something out about the door being open and Arthur walked Eames’s backwards, still attached at the mouth, relying on instinct to not knock into the walls. Eames laughed against his lips and it turned into a satisfying surprised shriek when Arthur swept her up off of the floor and turned to Mattie. “Where’s your bed?”

Mattie mutely pointed to the back of his loft and Arthur pushed past him, still holding Eames in his arms. “Ho ho, Arthur,” she whispered, tilting her head against his neck so that she could lick a line down his throat. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Arthur snorted. “You’ve made that abundantly clear,” he whispered back as he dumped her down on the bed. He took a moment to look down at her, small breasts heaving under her off the shoulder top, legs splayed. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes he had a hard time believing were ever innocent. They ignored Mattie pulling a roll-top chair over to the bed and plunking ungracefully down into it. Even though this was a dream and he was actually wearing a beautifully tailored three piece Balmain suit in the locked off backroom of a bar, if he thought too much about Mattie’s eyes on them both, he wouldn’t be able to do this.

Eames made a noise in the back of her throat, like she was reminding them both where they were. She tossed her expensive booties aside, raising up to her knees to yank the fly of Arthur’s 501s down. Mattie gasped as she peeled his tight black briefs off and wrapped her lips around his dick. Arthur thought he was going to have to dream himself into hardness, but this one was all natural. Eames stared up at him with laughing eyes, and began to sink her mouth down on his dick.

Arthur widened his eyes and then looked away, breathing steadily in through his nose because he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He wondered if Eames could actually deep throat in real life, or if he was just dreaming her throat relaxing around Arthur’s cock, taking more and more of him until her lips were flush with his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

Where were Ariadne and Cobb? They’d given them plenty of time to come down here and beat the door in. Well if they weren’t coming it wasn’t like they could suddenly stop and say, “well, how ‘bout them Yankees.” Eames gave a pornstar moan around his dick and while Mattie nearly blew a gasket in his rolltop chair, Arthur looked down at her unimpressed. He pulled himself away, trying to be unselfconscious about his spitslick and shiny dick. He started unbuttoning his shirt, keeping steady eyes on Eames the entire time. She got the hint, pulling her shirt off and unclasping her lacy strapless bra. The unbelievably short shorts came next. She wasn’t wearing underwear.

Arthur shucked the last few pieces of his own clothing, tamping down on the urge to fold them and drape them over a free chair. They weren’t real, but fastidiousness was a state of mind he couldn’t shake. Eames was leaning back on the bed, fingers pinching her nipples and trailing between her thighs. Arthur crawled up the bed, knocking her hands away and claiming her mouth. He ducked down to nip the point of her nipple at the same moment that he pushed two fingers into her damp warmth, crooking them up to press on her g-spot. She made the sound of a woman who’d never found it before, thighs tightening around his body. He supposed Eames probably never had. Arthur doubted he made it a habit to have sex in people’s dreams.

He drifted lower, sucking kisses at tanned flesh and listening to Eames’ breaths speeding up. When Arthur ducked his head between her thighs, holding her open with firm hands, she gazed down at him with newly appreciative eyes. Eames wasn’t sure which one of them dreamed she tasted like sugar. He really hoped if Cobb was still coming, if he hadn’t decided to play some awful prank on them, he didn’t burst in at this moment.

He tongued her clit until her thighs trembled, using his fingers on her, until she’d ruined his perfectly coifed hair by running her hands through it repeatedly. She came with a muted hiccup, mouth turned into her arm. He stroked up and down her legs while the flush disappeared across her chest.

“C’mon, Arthur,” she said, voice like a sigh. He still heard the underlying ‘quit fucking about’ in her voice. Still as he was pushing inside her, he went slow, more to be contrary than to be kind. He held her still when she tried to force him further.

“Stop that,” he whispered and brushed a chaste kiss to her shoulder. She made a disgusted noise and scored lines down his back with her nails. He hissed, hips jerking, and she smiled like she’d won. In that moment he wanted to bite her, bruise her, mark her up—push her to her limits before she even found his.

“I can’t see,” Mattie told them plaintively and Arthur had to hide a shudder.

Eames rolled them over like Arthur weighed nothing, sliding down so far on his dick he choked. “That better, love?” she said to Mattie, keeping her eyes on Arthur the whole time as she started rising up and down, thighs flexing against his hips. He groaned when she arched her back, driving him in deeper. Eames closed her eyes, started swirling her fingers around her nipples, wet lips parted around a silent moan. The flush was building across her chest again.

But there was something missing—some thready connection they had made had broken. Like they were dreaming each other in all the remoteness fucking becomes sometimes when the subconscious got that bizarre and bloodless. He darted his eyes over and caught Mattie’s flagging interest. He flipped her over again, enjoying the sound of air shoved out of her lungs in a rush. He pushed one of her long legs back to her chest, hooking it over his shoulder. She moaned, hands fisting uselessly on the sheets. He couldn’t help baring his teeth in a grin. Eames kissed him like she couldn’t bear to look at him, moaning into his mouth as he used the angle to snap his hips up. She crushed her heel into his back, reminding him that she was letting him do this, he was not taking it from her.

He thrust into her, breath coming in wet sounding gasps. She was so tight and perfect, her own slick smeared between her thighs and all over him. It was some of the messiest sex Arthur had ever had, saliva and sweat everywhere, limbs slip-sliding together. He liked pausing, just at her entrance, cockhead holding her open and then driving in hard so that he skidded over her g-spot again and again.

She came like that, fingertips sunk into the dip of his spine, face pushed into his collarbone like he wasn’t allowed to see that moment of vulnerability. He wasn’t sure why she needed that luxury, it wasn’t like Eames was wearing his actual face with all its weakness laid bare in the moment of orgasm. Arthur had to suffer that alone. It almost hurt when his release finally came, knocking the breath out of him. He thrust in like he could push any further inside and her eyes flew wide, tensing around him in surprised pleasure-pain. He wondered if it was worth apologizing over, and decided he was too far gone to care about niceties.

She dragged her hand through his hair, staring at it wonderingly while he heaved deep breaths, head bowed between his shoulders. It was in that moment, still buried deep inside her, beautiful long legs wound about his body, that Cobb finally chose to make an entrance.

Arthur had somehow completely forgotten about Mattie and the objective. He was pretty sure that Cobb holding a shotgun had never been part of the plan. Mattie started screaming, Arthur and Eames sprang apart like guilty children, and Cobb started shooting.

“Daddy, daddy, stop that!” Eames shouted, getting up in front of him, unashamed of her nudity. Daddy? That definitely hadn’t been part of the plan. Well, it wasn’t really Eames’ nudity, but a facsimile of it. Even still he supposed Eames probably would have no problem running around naked.

Cobb roared about Mattie corrupting his daughter, and technically Eames was supposed to do this part, but nobody was paying attention to Arthur at the moment. It was easy enough to dive over to the strong box, dream up a set of lock picks, and prize the thing open. There were three heavy manila folders filled with information, he swept them out of the box hoping Mattie was too busy to notice. He turned around to find Cobb making Mattie dance by shooting at his feet and Eames holding on to his arm in a claw-like grip. It seemed like the situation had gotten desperately out of control.

He spied Ariadne peering around the door, white-faced, and Arthur decided then that he was waking up. This was just too much.

*

“His subconscious kept us out,” Cobb explained in the car ride back to the warehouse, a vein throbbing in his temple. It appeared they’d given Cobb and Ariadne quite a scare. They’d left Mattie behind in the bar, an empty glass of whiskey sitting at his elbow. Ariadne’d had to pull Cobb away from Mattie’s sleeping form when they woke up.

Ariadne looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She kept looking at Arthur and Eames like she was the party girl who had just found her best friend unconscious in the bathroom, underwear around her ankles.

Arthur turned his face away and Eames said brashly, “What are you apologizing for exactly?”

He popped a piece of gum and looked as cool as a cucumber, unlike Arthur who was intensely aware of the fact that he’d woken up to sticky trousers. But it didn’t stop her apologizing, or Cobb saying he was grateful that Arthur had been willing to take the charade so far, and Yusuf staring at them both like he’d just discovered an idea that would make him millions. Arthur didn’t know why it was such a big deal, it wasn’t like Eames wouldn’t have had to prostitute himself in the original plan.

When they got back to the warehouse, Arthur knew he had to get out of there and fast. He picked up his brief case, smoothed a hand down the front of his suit and left with a crisp nod. He didn’t expect Eames to follow him.

“Arthur, what exactly has got your panties in a knot?” he called after him, burning cigarette in hand.

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “Have you not noticed Ariadne apologizing left and right? We weren’t supposed to have to do that.”

Eames scoffed. “We had a good time.”

Arthur turned away, hand massaging his temple. “Ugh, you are just so…” he couldn’t find the words.

Eames closed the distance between them. “Was it that it was me?” he said softly, hand on Arthur’s shoulder just like on that dreamt-up rooftop, “or was it that it was me and…not me?”

Arthur swallowed. It hit a little too close to home. “Did you realize that you dreamed yourself gloves as you were breaking into Mattie’s strong box? As if you would ever have to worry about finger prints in a man’s subconscious,” he said to the back of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, unamused. Eames dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his toe. Before Arthur knew what he was up to Eames had caught his chin in one hand and was kissing him hard, tongue running over Arthur’s teeth, front pressed to Arthur’s back. Somehow more intimate that anything Arthur had allowed himself in a long time. It was different than in Ariadne's dream and yet totally the same. Arthur pulled back after a moment, bewildered by the sensation.

“It really was me, you know,” Eames said softly.

Arthur couldn’t bring himself to move away from Eames. He was totally uncertain, a place where he dwelled rarely and never made decisions out of, but still he said, “Come home with me.”

Eames smiled and stepped away. “I knew you enjoyed it. Show me the way, love.”

“Shut up.”

Eames just laughed.

*


End file.
